The scenery played around him like an old-fashioned video-recorder. The light flickered and black dots flitted in and out of existance around the shapes of the park benches and trees and his older brother. The much taller one grasped his little brother's arm roughly, scolding him, "Come on, Coty, don't touch it, it's dead and diseased. You could get rabies or something," his voice was distant and crackly.

Coty thought different. He could sense a flicker of... life... in the limp form of the small swallowtail that lay near the edge of the pathway, below a tree. Was it life? Or was it something different? An aura? Is that what Crazy Aunt Matilde would call it?

His older brother dragged him away, clearly angry, though Coty wasn't sure why. Coty looked back over his shoulder, spotting the little creature getting smaller by the second as their distance increased. He tried hard to discern the feeling he was receiving from the poor thing, his neck starting to hurt as he craned to see over his shoulder. His older brother's grip on his wrist tightened a little bit. He couldn't see the bird anymore. Frustrated, he grunted with the effort of tearing apart from the taller one. He ran as fast as he could back to the bird, ignoring his brother's irritated yell behind him. It seemed as though the film-esque memory skipped, and suddenly he wasn't running anymore. The bird stayed still as he stood before it. He stayed half a foot away, staring intently at it.

What? What was this that he felt? A connection, somehow?

A jolt ran through his mind, and he felt like he was close to the truth. Like being in the archway of a door, but not being able to see around it to the person there.

An angry hand grabbed his shoulder as he was being hoisted up into his brother's arms, forcefully being carried away from the truth his body and mind had been seeking for years. He kept on staring at the bird, staring, trying to understand.

The gray, dead wing twitched.

Coty's sky blue eyes shot open. He found himself laying in a soft bed in a different, not so white and not so empty room. There were brown wooden doors and dressers, and even a window revealing a small flowering courtyard outside. He sat up slowly, his back popping and his brain seeming to slosh around inside his skull.

"Welcome back."

Coty jumped. His neck cracked with the sudden upward glace he gave to the other person in the room. For one terrible moment he had thought it was that- that guy- from the white room- Sade? But no, it wasn't him. But now he really wished it was.

It was Feardorcha.

Coty stayed frozen, staring at the surprisingly tall form. Feardorcha just stared right back, not moving, not even breathing it seemed. It looked to Coty that if he even glanced away, Feardorcha would dissapear into the shadows of the room.

If only it were true.

Coty attempted speech, but all that came out was a embarrasingly feminine squeak. He shut his mouth again with the loud clack sound of teeth. An exceedingly long moment passed, until Feardorcha finally sighed and said, "Would you like to take a bath? You're quite rank."

Coty's face was still burning when he turned the squeaky knob inside the shower, the first freezing beads of water hitting his bare back. His clothes lay discarded on the linoleum floor. The water warmed up, and Coty hummed slightly. This was heaven. A thought occurred to him and he glanced around him, looking out for tiny cameras or recorders that might be placed nearby. You couldn't be too careful in a place like this...

Just as he was turning off the water when he was all nice and clean, the door to the room he had just been sleeping in open up. Feardorcha walked in, unabashed, carrying some folded clothing in one arm. Coty jumped back, nearly slipping on the shower's slick surface. He couldn't even hide himself; there wasn't a curtain, "J-Jesus! Haven't you heard of privacy?" Coty studdered.

Feardorcha placed the bundle in his arms onto the counter top, saying, "I thought you might appreciate some clean clothing, since I've come to the conclusion that you are neither a nudist or the type to wear dirty underwear."

"Oh... Um, right," Coty clearned his throat nervously. He mumbled something resembling a thanks. Feardorcha just looked at him. At least a minute passed in awkward (for Coty) silence, until he finally continued, "Um, leave?"

Feardorcha then did something Coty had never seen him do before (not that he had seen him often). He smiled. No, smirked is more correct. His thin lips curved upward at the edges, and his cocked his head to the side, causing a cascade of black hair to cover the scarred half of his face. In that moment, with the absense of that one wide, pale green eye, and the rough red and black skin, Feardorcha seemed- normal.

"Uncomfortable?" the other asked.

"Just go."

"Saaaade," Hoyt whined, tugging at Sade's sleeve.

"Hoooyt," Sade whined back. His shoulder-length black hair was now brushed and shiny. He adjusted his studded leather belt across his crotch, since his black jeans were just that low.

"She told you to be nice to the new guy," Hoyt complained, tugging harder at Sade's fishnet sleeve.

"He was in my room," Sade pulled away from Hoyt's grasp.

"He didn't want to be," Hoyt tugged at Sade's hair.

"He didn't leave," Sade flicked Hoyt on the cheek.

"Because you didn't let him out!" Hoyt shoved Sade hard, making the other stagger slightly.

"He should have asked to be let out," Sade shoved Hoyt back.

"He did," Hoyt shoved Sade again.

"I didn't do anything that bad to him," Sade poked Hoyt's chest painfully.

"You hit him over the head with a metal baseball bat!" Hoyt bit the closest thing he could reach, which happened to be Sade's finger.

"So?" Sade threw Hoyt onto the floor, getting on top of him. Hoyt sighed, defeated. Sade grinned evilly, leaning into Hoyt's face, "I should bite your dick off."

"You would," Hoyt patted Sade's face with his one free hand (the other was caught underneath Sade's groin) in mock-affection.

Sade growled and flipped Hoyt over onto his stomach underneath him, pinning his bony arms behind him, "You little bitch."

Hoyt squirmed, arching his back and flailing his legs, managing to throw Sade off-balance. They wrestled for a few minutes, ultimitely ending up with their positions switched, with Hoyt on top and Sade below, his arms held above his head. Hoyt hummed with satisfaction.

"I love you, brother."

"Whatever."

Douglas sat on the concrete floor, polishing his favorite silver gun, El Muerte. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose, and he quickly pushed them back up with one finger. A young girl sat nearby in a chair, dressed in old-fashioned Victorian era clothing. Her hair was red and pulled back neatly at her nape. She watched Douglas with bored eyes, "You are disturbingly predictable," she sighed, swinging her short legs that didn't even reach the floor. Douglas didn't reply, "You realize that that's very sad, considering I'm only nine, correct?"

"I highly doubt that you are truly nine, Soleil," Douglas said, placing El Muerte back into it's shoulder holster.

"I suppose we both don't look our age," she observed. Indeed, Douglas looked nowhere near thirty-six-years-old. He looked like he should still be in college, "What's Louise doing?" she smiled, satisfied with the sudden anger that flickered across Douglas's face.

"Alive, if that's what you mean," Douglas said in a low voice. He wasn't happy that she was alive. He preferred it when the people he killed stayed dead.

"How dissapointing," Soleil tittered, covering her mouth with a delicate hand.

Douglas truly considered knocking over that damn chair she sat in.